<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>No one said it would be easy by Valgeristik</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25972753">No one said it would be easy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valgeristik/pseuds/Valgeristik'>Valgeristik</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Destiny (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Other, lots of drama tho!, not sure how the ratings work? this could be T but im putting M just in case, theres a liiiiiiittle bit of very deserved stabbing in the last chapter but its nothing graphic, this is just me having feelings abt my ocs, very little actual Destiny Things but</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:21:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,534</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25972753</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valgeristik/pseuds/Valgeristik</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Can I still give you flowers, though?”</p><p>Frye wants to say no, wants to tell them it’s not worth the effort, that he isn’t worth the effort, and where would he even put them on his ship, but he just nods instead.</p><p>Jan smiles, delighted, and Frye thinks this is the biggest mistake he’s ever made in his life.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Guardian/Guardian (Destiny)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>god im so bad at coming up with work titles.<br/>anyway, this is full on OC indulgence.</p><p>with art!<br/>https://valgeristik.tumblr.com/post/626791113069658112/hello-i-wrote-some-stuff-about-frye-and-jan-a</p><p>also some explanation to make a joke in the work more clear: </p><p>Frye has a french accent because....when i created him i was tempted to just name him Fry.......hence..........french fry........<br/>he also lives in his ship.</p><p>ALSO, Soma is my wonderful friend's wonderful OC &lt;3</p><p>anyway enjoy 😳😳</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The first time they see him, they know they are lost. </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He is hard not to notice - his clothes shimmer in the light, changing from one color to the other, holographic and maybe a bit too revealing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man himself is eye-catching, too, and not only because of his height. His hair looks messy in an intended way, the front of it pulled into a charming little ponytail, the rest falling freely over his shoulders, curling a bit to the sides. He moves in a carefree way, almost gliding through the room, which is ironically rare for warlocks. Jan, in their butterflies-inside-heart-beating-wildly frenzy, thinks that he is the most beautiful person they've ever seen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They try not to stare </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> obviously as they commit every detail to memory, in the brief amount of time it takes him to cross the library and disappear into the office department. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They are stunned, and distraught at not asking for his name, and they need to know who he is as if their life depends on it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(Judging by the still frantic beating of their heart, it may as well be) </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, him? That's Frye," Soma says, casually, but their posture looks a bit stiff as they say it, "Why do you ask?"<br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Um, it's just," Jan stutters, fiddling with the pen in their hand, "I think I'd like to ask him on a date." <br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soma, almost comically, lowers their sunglasses to give the other hunter a meaningful </span>
  <em>
    <span>Look.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Jan doesn't know what it means; it falls flat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soma sights and frowns at them, considering. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Are you serious about this?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes," Jan clicks the pen a few times, avoiding eye contact, "I haven't been able to stop thinking about him for a week." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Soma is quiet for another moment, putting the sunglasses back where they belong, but still evaluating Jan from behind them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” they finally say, “I can ask him to drop by sometime this week.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, but…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Soma motions for Jan to get closer, which they do, almost excitedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The excitement dissipates the moment they see Soma’s expression.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you hurt him,” the other hunter looks deadly serious, which is a rare look on them, “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> kill you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jan nods, sufficiently intimidated. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“That is the last thing I want to do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>----</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the day finally comes, Jan can’t stop checking their reflection every few minutes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They wore their best shirt, and took extra care in styling their hair, and even used a bit of makeup, despite being way out of practice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their tie feels unusually suffocating, or maybe that’s just the nerves, but either way, they keep adjusting it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Any and all work that they had for today lays half-forgotten in favor of their phone, which they keep checking for a message from Soma.</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In short, Jan feels like an absolute mess. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the message finally arrives, they almost spill the coffee they’ve been nervously sipping on. They put it on the table, immediately forgotten, as they all but sprint towards the main entrance of the building, per Soma’s instructions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Opting for the stairs instead of the elevator isn’t even a question in their mind - they skip up to three steps at a time in their barely contained excitement, which makes reaching their destination way faster.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jan sees him immediately - Frye is sitting on one of the couches in the waiting area, looking bored, flipping through a magazine he must have found on the coffee table in front of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks just as stunning as Jan remembers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After taking one more look in the nearest reflective surface, they finally approach. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh, hi! Frye, is it?”</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The warlock looks up, languid, and smiles in much the same way. Jan’s heart skips a beat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jan, I take it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Y-yeah. That’s me, um,” they laugh nervously, unsure of what to do, and extend their hand for a handshake, “Nice to meet you, officially, I mean, um-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frye laughs at that, himself, but shakes the offered hand. Jan feels their face heat up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nice to meet you too,” he pats the space beside him on the couch, “Sit down, will ya? No need to be so formal”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jan obliges. An awkward silence follows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They try not to stare, but it’s near impossible with someone so dazzling in front of them, so they start fidgeting with their tie instead, desperately trying to think of what to say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frye, for his part, looks incredibly amused. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Soo,” he begins, “Soma told me you wanted to ask me something?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, yes, um, that is, would you- I mean,” Jan sighs, looks at Frye apologetically, “Sorry. I’m really nervous, um...”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, I have that effect on people,” the warlock says, nonchalantly leaning back into the couch, bumping their knees together. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jan almost loses the gift of speech for a second time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, I was wondering if you’d like to, um. Grab some dinner together? Sometime?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They say it while looking away, which is why they are surprised to find Frye much closer once they finally turn back. He is still at a comfortable enough distance, but it is close enough that Jan can smell a hint of cologne from him. Fruity, almost like bubblegum. They are very glad they’re sitting already.</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frye, meanwhile, still looks amused, almost sly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I know </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> the kind of dinner you have in mind,” he says, leaning onto the hand he has draped around the back of the couch, exposing the long line of his neck, looking at Jan with half-lidded eyes. The hunter keeps </span>
  <em>
    <span>their</span>
  </em>
  <span> eyes firmly on his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, do you have a place in mind?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Your </span>
  </em>
  <span>place, maybe,” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I’m not that good of a cook, um…” Jan looks around, thinking, “How about the restaurant across the street from here? Tomorrow at 8pm?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For the first time during their conversation, Frye looks confused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, he shrugs, and the lazy smile returns to his face. He leans back into the couch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure, I’m free.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Great!” Jan, in their excitement, almost shakes Frye’s hand again, but restrains the urge just in time, “I’ll...see you there?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure, sure. Wouldn’t miss it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m, um. Really looking forward to it,” Jan stands up, almost bumping into the coffee table, “My break is over, so, um, I need to- wait, do you need my phone number? Just in case something-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frye waves his hand dismissively, still lounging.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just have Soma call me if something comes up.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Ah,” Jan tries not to sound disappointed, “I will, yes. Good idea.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They wave, awkwardly, and leave without looking back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They keep a very calm and controlled pace on their way to the archives, and definitely don't run, fueled by nerves and excitement.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jan gets to the restaurant about half an hour earlier. They opted for something more casual than their work-wear, but now, standing in front of the building with the biggest peony bouquet they could buy, they feel underdressed and nervous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They are so absorbed in overthinking that the slight tap on their shoulder makes them jump. They’re glad they’ve been gripping the bouquet for dear life, or else they would have surely dropped it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Behind them is Frye, looking overjoyed at their reaction. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t think you’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>jump.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I, uh. I was...distracted,” Jan says, fidgeting with the flowers in their hands, before remembering who they’re for, “Oh, right, um. Here,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They extend the bouquet towards Frye, who looks confused.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I think they, um. They suit you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The warlock takes the flowers in his hands, hesitantly, like they’re something unfamiliar to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he shrugs again, and any trace of hesitation disappears from his face and body language. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, to each their own.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Haha, yeah,” Jan agrees, despite not understanding the comment at all, “Shall we, uh?”</span>
  <span></span><br/>
<span><br/>
</span>
  <span>They gesture to the restaurant entrance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frye smiles, easy and radiant. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lead the way.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-----</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The dinner, Jan thinks, goes great. Frye is a good storyteller, even if half of his stories are better left unheard in public places. But he is a good listener, too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Not to mention the in-depth discussion they ended up having about Golden Age-era music)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both leave the restaurant laughing, just a bit tipsy, and, at least for Jan, high on joy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once they're a few meters from the entrance, Frye stops walking and turns to look at his companion, one hand propped on his hip, the other holding the bouquet carelessly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"So," he says, voice low, "what now?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, I… Can I walk you back to your house?" they offer, hopeful. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frye steps closer at that, puts his hand on Jan's chest, keeps it there. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I was thinking of going to your place, you know," he leans close enough to whisper in their ear, which makes Jan freeze and overheat all at once, "to stay the night." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It takes a moment for them to remember how to speak, with Frye being too close for their brain to function, but they manage a weak "okay" once the warlock leans back a bit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Don't die yet, handsome, I've got big plans for tonight," he says, amused, finally removing his hand after giving their chest a few pats. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jan barely registers what he says after 'handsome'. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They barely register the entire walk home, too, but their autopilot gets them both to the apartment without issue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Except for the two minutes it took them to open the door, on account of their shaking hands) </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Okay, well," Jan says once they both step into the apartment proper, avoiding looking in Frye's direction, "Um, the bedroom is over there and, um, I'll go change the sheets for you and…find something for you to sleep in, and-"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No need for all that," Frye interrupts, casually stepping into Jan's field of view, hand on their chest again, "we can just go to bed as is." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, um. I'm sleeping on the couch." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frye’s hand leaves their chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"...What" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And I can't imagine that sleeping in your current clothes is comfortable, so no worries, I'll find you something." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They are aware they're talking too much, but that is all they can think to do in the situation. Frye's reaction isn't what they expect; it's almost as if there's no reaction at all, like he's frozen in place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jan carefully takes the flowers out of his hands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'll go put these in a vase, um," they gesture deeper into the apartment, "you can use the bathroom meanwhile, since I still have to change the bedsheets and… There's a bathrobe there, but I will also leave the spare clothes outside the door for you, is that alright?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frye, still looking stunned and confused, nods slowly. Jan smiles nervously. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Just call if you have any questions" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time they come back from putting the flowers in the water, Frye is already in the bathroom. Jan sighs in relief, trying not to let the implications of the latest events get to them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They get busy with preparing the bedroom for Frye, instead, picking the best bedsheets they have, and the least embarrassing shirt and pants they own. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jan is in the middle of changing the blanket cover when they hear the bedroom door open, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> do not jump at the sound. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the doorway is Frye, wearing the bathrobe, his own clothes in hand. It doesn't seem like he took a lot of care in tying the robe, as it looks about ready to fall off his shoulders. He gives Jan a long, meaningful look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hunter starts working on changing the covers faster. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They hear Frye sign in frustration, and then they see him getting comfortable on the unused bit of the bed. Whether intentional or not, the movement leaves his legs completely uncovered, and Jan quickly looks away, offering his guest the finished blanket. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Um, yeah, I hope your shower was nice," they gesture to the clothes laying on the bedside table, "You can change into that, and-" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Are you sure you don't want to join me?" Frye interrupts. He doesn't look at them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Um, yeah, the couch is just fine," they laugh awkwardly, "not my first rodeo, you know?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frye nods. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jan shifts their weight from leg to leg, unsure. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'll let you be, then," they say, heading for the door, "I'm in the living room if you need anything, um… Good night?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All they get is a quiet "yeah, you too" as they close the door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It is the middle of the night, and Frye cannot sleep. He didn’t plan to sleep tonight in the first place, but not like </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could leave, of course, it’s one of the things he’s best at, and yet...a mix of disappointment and unmistakable anxiety keeps him pinned in place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alone, in the comfiest bed he’s been in for the last couple of months, he is at a loss. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first few hours he expected Jan to come back, quietly slip below the covers, take him up on his offer, because why </span>
  <em>
    <span>else </span>
  </em>
  <span>would they go through the trouble of flowers and restaurants and changing the bed and-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> much easier if that happened.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lili,” he calls out, but his Ghost is already near him even before he finishes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Want a transmat out?” she offers immediately. Frye laughs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“As confusing as this whole thing is, I don’t think I want to be sleeping in the ship again tonight.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not that he was getting much sleep anyway, but it’s always better to mope on a comfortable mattress than in the driver’s seat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then what is it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Was I too subtle?” he asks, falling back into the pillows dramatically. Lili sighs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You rarely are,” she says it with the disapproving tone used for criticizing his usual one-night stands. Somehow, he finds it comforting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then why am I </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and they are </span>
  <em>
    <span>on the couch</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, maybe you finally found someone decent.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> that this isn’t-” he sits up again, almost angry. Reigns it in, because she only wants what’s best, “I’m not looking for a relationship, you know this.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to date them for them to be decent.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a grumble, Frye disappears below the covers. Lili flies closer, flicking her shell uncertainly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can ask them in the morning?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe they’ll fuck me then,” comes a muffled, irritated reply.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Traveler, you are </span>
  <em>
    <span>impossible</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>----</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Morning greets him with blinding sunshine and the smell of something sweet and delicious in the air. Frye rises, still groggy from the few hours of sleep he’s had, and looks around. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still alone, still in a comfortable bed. A cursory glance at the floor reveals his clothes, still where he dropped them the previous day. Jan never entered the bedroom in the night. This never happened before.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unsure how to proceed, he leaves the bed. Considers going out in just the t-shirt he slept in, but decides to put his own clothes on - for ease of leaving, if need be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leaves the bed unmade.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The smell is even more delicious outside the bedroom, and the sight that greets him in the kitchen makes </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> stir in his chest (he tramples it down without mercy). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jan’s back is turned to him, busy attending to something on the stove. Their hair is untied, and this is the first time he’s seeing them not wearing a dress shirt. Somehow that makes them more attractive, and he mourns the way the night could have gone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The peonies, standing big and beautiful on the kitchen table, give the scene a domestic feeling, mocking him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frye clears his throat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” Jan almost jumps again, turning around. Their face is immediately lit up in a warm smile, “Good morning! I’m making breakfast.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frye takes a seat at the table, spitefully moving the peonies to the side. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can see that much,” he props his head on one hand, giving Jan a lazy smile and a wink, one last-ditch attempt at flirting, “what’s on the menu?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I thought this would be funny,” Jan looks gleeful as they put something on two plates and bring them to the table, “It’s french toast”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frye laughs, surprised. The food looks amazing, and his stomach gives an involuntary growl. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s pretty funny, yeah,” he agrees, tone flat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Try it! I hope it’s good, I don’t really cook much, but I found this recipe recently and-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frye takes a bite. He doesn’t look at Jan, who is still babbling on. The toast </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>good, but the situation is almost overwhelmingly </span>
  <em>
    <span>sweet</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and he is getting impatient. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know I said I’m not a very good cook, but french toast is easy, so, um, I decided to try making it for you, and-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why didn’t you sleep with me?” Frye interrupts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jan seems to choke on air, and their expression would be funny in any other situation. He waits for their answer, taking another bite, not breaking eye contact.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m, uh,” the hunter manages, “I don’t, um...”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They fidget with their fork, looking away, blushing. Frye keeps quiet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I just...I want to do this right,” Jan says when they meet his eyes again, hopeful.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Something cold grips Frye’s insides.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t date.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jan’s posture sinks, and their expression loses any amount of joy they had previously. Despite himself, Frye finds that he can’t stand to look at them like that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But I don’t mind being friends,” he says, rushed, unthinking. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jan looks at him like he just delivered the best news of their life, and he knows he won’t be able to bring himself to take the offer back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t mind that,” they say, reassuring, “You’re great company either way”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wants to laugh at that, because he’s only great at being a mess, but the sincere, fond smile on Jan’s face doesn’t let him. He takes another bite of french toast instead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can I still give you flowers, though?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frye wants to say no, wants to tell them it’s not worth the effort, that </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> isn’t worth the effort, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>where would he even put them on his ship</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but he just nods instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jan smiles, delighted, and Frye thinks this is the biggest mistake he’s ever made in his life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(He can’t bring himself to correct it, though)</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>some Links to more art/info:</p><p>https://valgeristik.tumblr.com/post/617663414572105728/look-at-this-mess-of-a-warlock-i-made-he-spends<br/>https://valgeristik.tumblr.com/post/622077471343476736/okay-so-heres-my-destiny-ocs-masterpost-that-i</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Frye Burns Some Bridges And Then Frantically Tries To Fix Them</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>uhh some nsfw implications in this one but nothing too explicit</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>That evening, everything goes to shit. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frye doesn’t know where the first mistake was made. Was it when he chose the one awoken at the bar who looked so similar to Jan? Was it when the man chose him, too? Or maybe it happened months earlier, in the office building foyer, when they first met? When he let the two of them stay friends? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Most likely, Frye thinks bitterly, the first mistake was his own revival.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Realization hits him like a brick during the worst moment possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They are in the thick of it, him and that man from the bar, and Frye doesn’t think of anything but the hands holding him, doesn’t notice his own babbling until the man slows down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who’s Jan?” he asks, and Frye can feel, through the fog in his mind, the creeping dread gripping his insides. He hides his face in the pillows.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s french for ‘faster’,” he mumbles, muffled. Hopes that his voice is even and that he’s shaking because of exertion. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you say so,” his partner laughs, and obliges. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Frye is glad for no more questions.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afterwards, gathering his things in record time, he runs before the man is even asleep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He rushes into his ship like he’s being chased. If that was true, though, it would make things easier for him. He could run from thrall, or wizards, or whoever else. He’s good at running. The thing haunting him is far worse than any of them, however, because it’s not something you can outrun. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he hisses, throwing his coat, forcefully, at a vase with a week-old bouquet Jan gave him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The vase is designed to stay in place during flight, however, and so his outburst is unrewarded - the coat falls harmlessly to the floor. He grabs the flowers themselves and flings them across the room. They hit the opposite wall and slide, unceremoniously, to the floor. Frye follows suit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fu</span>
  <em>
    <span>uuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he says, with feeling. Anger has left him as quickly as it came, and now nothing was stopping him from crying. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lili, quiet through the outburst, flits carefully towards him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What happened, Fry?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sounds concerned, and he wants to reassure her he’s fine, but he can’t lie to her through the sobbing. She nudges herself against his cheek, comforting, which only makes him cry harder. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>It takes a while for him to calm down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time he does, Lili manages to make him some instant coffee. It comes out a bit lumpy - she doesn’t have hands to stir with, after all, but Frye still accepts it gratefully. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Ready to talk?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Traveler, no,” he says, sips the coffee, adds two more spoonfuls of sugar.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t seen you like this since-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lili, please,” He stops stirring in favor of smudging the makeup on his cheeks even more, “the </span>
  <em>
    <span>last</span>
  </em>
  <span> thing I need right now is to remember that guy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>what happened?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Nobody hurt you, did they?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He laughs, dry and humorless, and downs half the cup in one go. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not directly.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lili waits patiently for him to continue, and Frye knows that he’s not getting out of this conversation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I want to sleep with Jan,” he says, reluctantly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lili rolls her eye. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s not news.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I want to </span>
  <em>
    <span>stay</span>
  </em>
  <span> after that,” he says, pleading, as if she would dismiss that idea too, and it would cure his affliction. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But no such luck. Instead, she flows, concerned, to bump against his shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Frye, dear…” Lili begins, and it prompts a new wave of sobbing from him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>this,” he whines, almost spilling the rest of his coffee on the floor, “I don’t fucking want to be- to- I don’t fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>want this</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe it will be alright, if it’s them?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have you </span>
  <em>
    <span>seen</span>
  </em>
  <span> me, Lili? You know me! Who would want to deal with this?” he downs the rest of the coffee and flings the paper cup across the room, to join the flowers, “They only tolerate me because I’m pretty.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think they like you for more than just that,” she reprimands, but Frye laughs at the notion.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know what I think?” he says, suddenly defiant and bitter, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>think that once they fuck me, all of those gushy feelings will disappear because they just needed to let off some steam.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lili gasps, offended. Frye gets up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Set the coordinates for the City,” he says, wiping his eyes, “I’m going to make myself presentable.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re not going to-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>what I’m going to,” he snaps, and immediately looks apologetic, “I don’t know, Lili. I need to see them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Though still skeptical, she seems sated by his answer, floating towards the console. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frye washes his face with cold water until it hurts, applies new makeup, puts on his best outfit. He apologizes, mentally, for the lie he told Lili.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>He knows exactly what he’s going to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The moment Jan opens their door, Frye is on them. They are surprised, of course, because the message he sent them said that he wanted to talk, not </span>
  <em>
    <span>this.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But they do not move away, and the warlock morbidly counts that as a victory.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wow, okay,” Jan says once Frye breaks away for air, “That is, um...”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” he says, in the tone of voice that implies he isn’t at all, “I couldn’t wait.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not that I’m not happy, but,” they carefully wiggle out of the embrace to close the door, “but I thought you weren’t interested?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> interested in you, handsome,” Frye crowds them against the door, intending to continue. Jan puts a hand over his lips.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not </span>
  <em>
    <span>me,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” they say with a facial expression of a kicked puppy, “Dating.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, that,” Frye takes the hand covering his face and kisses the back of it, satisfied by Jan's flustered expression, “I changed my mind.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really?” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Yeah,” he gives their hand another kiss. Jan cups his cheek, gently, with the other. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Are you sure?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frye, suddenly overcome with emotions, buries his face in their palms, almost crying. Almost regretting the whole thing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he whispers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t seem like you’re-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I just realized what a fool I’ve been,” Frye interrupts, voice </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost</span>
  </em>
  <span> not shaking, “And I need you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jan is quiet, studying his face with a concerned expression. Frye leans down to kiss them again, gently this time, ignoring the pulling pain below his sternum.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please, Jan,” he says into the kiss, and he knows that he’s won when their hands wrap around his waist, pulling him closer as they finally kiss him back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They are clumsy but gentle, and somehow that hurts him more than he ever expected. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He set out to prove that they don't love him, not really, but in that moment he realizes that he doesn't deserve it in the first place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frye thinks that this is for the best. He is a liar, a mess, and a terrible human being, and the sooner they realize this, the better.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He listens to their breathing quietly, waiting for it to even out. Once he thinks they’re asleep, he pokes Jan in the cheek. They do not stir. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Slipping carefully out of their embrace, he feels numb. No one’s ever treated him like this, no one’s ever </span>
  <em>
    <span>cared</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the way Jan does. But that only proves his point. It would hurt too much when they, inevitably, leave him. It’s like cutting off a necrotic limb, he reasons. Better for the both of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soon they will realize what a mistake it was to get involved with him, and he will leave and forget that any of this ever happened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jan can do much better than him, anyway, and it’s just a matter of time before they do. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jan wakes up elated. While their first time didn’t go like they’d hoped it would, they weren’t going to complain. Frye is the best thing that ever happened to them, as far as they’re concerned, and they can’t wait to tell him that over and over again now that they’re allowed to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Turning around with a smile, they find the bed empty. It doesn’t change their mood, because surely, he must have just gotten up to use the bathroom, and maybe that’s what woke </span>
  <em>
    <span>them</span>
  </em>
  <span> up in turn. They wait patiently, rehearsing the compliments they’re going to shower him with once he returns.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They wait an hour, in vain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After that, they check their apartment, only to find it empty. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then, they search for a note that Frye didn’t leave, growing more frantic every second. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally, they try calling him, only to find out that his number has been disconnected.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frye spends the next few weeks doing what most people would call “self-destructive”. He calls it “fun”.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lili refuses to talk to him, which is just as well, he supposes. At least she’s not going to lecture him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He changed his number, and made sure that Jan will not find him, and he’s starting to think that all the alcohol and parties </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> going to heal his broken heart. Most people would call him “delusional”. He calls himself a mess.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He does not sleep with people who remind him of them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This morning, he is painfully hangover and has an uncomfortable pain in his back from sleeping on the floor of the ship. But that’s not the worst thing; the </span>
  <em>
    <span>worst</span>
  </em>
  <span> thing is the annoying beeping that woke him, indicating an incoming call. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>It could only be one person, and really, they should know better than to call him so early. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Soma,” he says in lieu of a greeting, “what do you want.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> want to know what the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> were you thinking!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They sound angry, perhaps affronted. Frye sluggishly thinks he deserves that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ugh,” is all he says, however. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally</span>
  </em>
  <span> get a chance to be happy, and what do you do?” they continue, ignoring him, “Unbelievable!!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They would have dumped me in a week anyway,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant, but coming out bitter, “I bet they already found someone better. It’s not like it’s hard.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Soma is quiet. The pause goes on long enough for Frye to realize that it is, in fact, a statement. He doesn’t interrupt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Frye,” they begin, voice calm, “I have never seen a being as depressed as Jan has been for these past few weeks.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frye feels a pang of guilt in his chest, but writes it off as something he ate last night.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They just don’t know how lucky they are to not have to deal with-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Frye.” they interrupt, stern. He immediately shuts up, pouting. “Ruin your own life if you so want, but you owe it to them to at </span>
  <em>
    <span>least</span>
  </em>
  <span> talk.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t owe them anything”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe if you kept it in your pants, I would agree,” Soma says, not amused, “but since you decided to be a dipshit...”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ugh, please,” he covers his eyes with his arm, feeling worse with every second. Soma is right, of course, and that’s exactly what he’s been trying to forget this whole time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Anyway, I’ve said what I think,” the hunter sighs, disappointed, “and if you don’t start fixing the mess that you’ve made, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>will </span>
  </em>
  <span>kick your ass. Say hi to Lili for me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They finally hang up. Frye, in addition to his hangover, feels like there’s a vice around his throat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lili flies into his field of view, still angry, judging by the way her shell is whirring. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Soma said hi,” he says, not getting up from the floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I hope they talked some sense into you,” is her only answer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a drawn-out sigh, Frye grimaces, pressing on his eyes with one hand in an effort not to cry, and finally admits that he fucked up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sends them a message first. It goes unanswered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tries calling, which goes straight to voicemail (he doesn’t leave one).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He mopes around his ship for days, desperate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, unable to handle his own guilt and Lili’s silence, he buys flowers (lilacs, all the kinds he could find), and goes to Jan’s apartment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rings the doorbell once, twice. No answer comes for several minutes. He is about to run away, again, when the door opens just a crack, held back by one of those little door chains. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jan looks terrible, and angry. They look like they've been crying for days, and there are bags under their eyes, and Frye feels dread wash over him like a cold wave. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry," is the first thing he says. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jan, still trying to look angry, starts to cry. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Why </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> you," they say, sobbing. Frye is frozen in place. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I…" he begins, not knowing what to say, "can I come in?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Despite crying, the denial sounds firm. Frye thinks he deserves that, but it doesn't make it hurt less. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm…" he tries again, almost pleading, "I'm an asshole. I'm sorry." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You didn't have to come say that in person," Jan says, bitter, "I got that much already." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Please, Jan," he sees them grimace at those words, and winces himself at the memory of how he used them last time, "you didn't deserve any of this." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The hunter looks at him with suspicion. Frye continues. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I was afraid," he explains, voice cracking, "I realized I-..." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He has to stop for a moment, words that he's about to say unfamiliar, terrifying in his mind. But he needed to not be selfish for once in his life. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I realized that I love you, and I was afraid." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jan's eyes widen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What," they say, voice flat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I love you, and I'm sorry, and…" he looks at them, pleading, "can we talk?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The door slams shut. Frye isn't surprised, because who </span>
  <em>
    <span>would </span>
  </em>
  <span>be, after what he pulled. He grips the bouquet tighter, and turns to walk away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he does, the door opens again, properly this time. The warlock jumps in surprise. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Fine," Jan wipes their eyes and steps back, allowing Frye to squeeze past. He does so, hesitantly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"But if this is just another ploy to break my heart," he hears them say as he's taking his boots off, "I'm going to be very, very mad." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It wasn't-" Frye begins, but Jan walks past him towards the kitchen, evidently not listening. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sighs, reminds himself that he deserves this, and follows them after taking off his coat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jan's back is turned towards him as he enters, busy staring the kettle down. The table is empty, except for a vase with nothing but water in it. It is still wet, so Frye assumes Jan put it there for his flowers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lilacs, now standing big and beautiful in the vase, reprimand him in their domesticity. He moves them, guiltily, to the side, and sits down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once the kettle boils, Jan brings two cups of tea to the table, not saying a word. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frye accepts the cup, feeling like his sternum is about to cave in. He doesn't know how he could do what he did to someone like Jan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They offer no sugar. He doesn't ask for it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"So," they say once they sit down, not looking at him, "I spent the last few weeks figuring out if that saying about the limited nature of tears is true. Proved it wrong. And how were you?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their tone is bitter, voice cracking, and Frye wishes he could take everything back. He grips his cup tighter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I spent them being the biggest fool in the galaxy," he says, studying the table. Jan snorts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Again, tell me something I </span>
  <em>
    <span>don't </span>
  </em>
  <span>know." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm a mess, Jan," he explains, voice unsteady, "I'm awful, and not worth it, and I wanted to make it easy for you to…" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He trails off. Jan looks at him with tired eyes, but there's no anger on their face anymore. Just exhaustion. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I knew you would see how bad I am," Frye continues, "and you would leave. I wanted to speed it up, like a coward." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"The </span>
  <em>
    <span>worst</span>
  </em>
  <span> thing about you," Jan says, as the warlock prepares himself, "is that, after all this, I was still happy to see you. " </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frye breaks into tears. He doesn't think he deserves their love, or their kindness, or </span>
  <em>
    <span>them</span>
  </em>
  <span> in general. Jan takes one of his hands into theirs, proving his point with how gentle they're being. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I wish you talked to me about it," they say, quiet and sad, "I would have told you right away how ridiculous that idea was." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry," is all Frye can say. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry, too," they wipe their eyes with their free hand, "I should have noticed- I </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> notice that something was wrong, and- and I shouldn't have- I should have-" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They stop talking, holding his hand tighter, covering their face. Frye feels like he's going to die. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You didn't," he begins, desperate, "you did nothing wrong, Jan. It was me, I- I fucked everything up. It wasn't you." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It takes two idiots to tango," they say, sniffling. Frye laughs involuntarily. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Your only fault is that you are too kind," he says. Jan snorts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You are not allowed to talk about </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> faults after what you pulled," their tone is reprimanding, but not angry, "not right now, at least, for sure." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frye is still afraid, but the way they say the last part gives him hope, and for once he does not extinguish it. Terrifyingly, he allows it to grow into longing, letting it take root, firmly, in his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He realizes he wants to </span>
  <em>
    <span>try</span>
  </em>
  <span>, not for himself, because he doesn't deserve it, but for </span>
  <em>
    <span>them, </span>
  </em>
  <span>because they deserve the world. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Jan," he begins, looking them in the eyes, apologetic and pleading, "will you let me make it up to you?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They are quiet for a moment, studying him. Their hand never leaves his. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Sure," they finally say, "but if you do something like this again, I will hunt you for sport." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frye laughs, nervous and relieved all at once. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That's fair" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the morning, over breakfast, Frye watches Jan pick through the lilacs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What are you looking for?" he asks, adding a sixth spoonful of sugar to his coffee, "Bugs?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No, smartass," they answer, not looking away from their work, "Sometimes there are- here it is!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They pluck something off of the branch, and show it to him proudly. It's a lilac flower with five petals. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Okay, a mutated one," he agrees, trying to sound impressed, "why is it special?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jan looks at him with a reprimanding smile, but it still melts his heart. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"If you eat one, you get to make a wish," they explain, looking at the flower fondly, "I mean, it's probably hogwash, but…" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before Frye can say anything, Jan eats it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There's a moment after where they just sit, eyes closed, evidently making their wish. The warlock takes this opportunity to enjoy the view. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What did you wish for?" he asks once they open their eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"For you to not be such a fool," they reply, matter-of-factly, before explaining further, "If you say the wish out loud, it won't come true." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Must be a special wish, if you're so secretive about it, huh?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They look at him, smiling fondly, as if they know a secret that he doesn't. Frye supposes that's exactly the case. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah," they answer, "it's pretty special." </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this is short and a bit abrupt but its good for context ;)<br/>also theyre gay</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It has been a few days since Jan forgave him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hasn't moved in with them, not officially, but the two of them have spent every day since then </span>
  <em>
    <span>together</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There are no arguments, no clashes in their habits, and it is almost ridiculous how well they get along. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their ghosts, too, find themselves joined by the metaphorical hip, often preferring each other's company over their own guardians. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There was only one problem, really, and it is that Frye is </span>
  <em>
    <span>desperate</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn't think he's ever wanted to touch someone more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not in his usual way, even though that's certainly there, but more in a casual, domestic setting. Brushing hands, fleeting kisses, head on one's shoulder while watching tv on the couch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he is afraid to touch Jan. He is afraid of crossing a line that would cost him this fragile new </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing</span>
  </em>
  <span> they have, not knowing what he's allowed after the reconciliation. And so, he stays away, moving cautiously through the days, as if walking on eggshells. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He</span>
  </em>
  <span> sleeps on the couch now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jan doesn't seem bothered by the situation. They move through every day with their usual nonchalance, not closing the physical gap between them even as they steadily replace his name with petnames in their speech. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Frye doesn't know if this is a test, or them giving him space. Giving </span>
  <em>
    <span>themself </span>
  </em>
  <span>space. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Either way, his feelings come to a boil one morning, as he's watching Jan wash the dishes after breakfast. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They are beautiful, which is something Frye has been agonizing about and reveling in for months. Their hair is untied, framing their head like a cloud, and the shirt they're wearing is just a bit too short, and the light from the setting sun illuminates their face in a warm orange glow, and they're humming a little tune under their breath, and Frye thinks that if he doesn't kiss them now, his heart will combust on the spot. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn't know if it's the lighting, or their charmingly disheveled look, or just simply love, but he's sure he's never met anyone as amazing as Jan. The feeling swells in his chest, almost unbearable, tearing through his fears and doubts like a wild animal desperately clawing it's way to freedom. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He gets up from the table, almost on autopilot, and crosses the distance between them. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Hey," he says, leaning casually on the kitchen counter, "Jan?" </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They give an acknowledging "hmm?" in response, not looking away from their work. Frye, nervous and desperate, clears his throat, thinking.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I, um," he starts, mouth suddenly dry, "Can I…Can I kiss you?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jan looks at him, a slight smile on their face, the kind that usually precedes a joke. Frye feels something cold spreading in his abdomen, frozen like a deer in the headlights, ready to take the blow. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh, so now you're asking?" </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They ask it in a way that's meant to be dismissed, laughed off, but Frye’s anxiety doesn't let him register that tone. It tells him, instead, that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucked up. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He tenses, looking away, the cold dread grabbing hold of his chest like a vice. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm," he chokes out, turning to leave, "I'm sorry, just…just forget I as-" </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He is interrupted by a wet hand gently cupping his cheek, guiding his face to look back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jan looks at him, apologetic, turning off the running water with their other hand. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart," they say, gently, like you would to a skittish cat, "It was a bad joke on my part." </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Their second hand finds it's way to the other side of Frye’s face. He can feel the water dripping, uncomfortably, under his collar. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn't care. Their words, like magic, make the fear take a backseat to everything else. Too mesmerized by the contact, by the gentle way Jan is looking at him, he puts one of his hands over theirs. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"So is that…Is that a yes?" he asks, barely audible, breath held in hope and anticipation. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Less doubting," they say, voice soft with a hint of a laugh, "more kissing." </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn't need to be told twice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leaning down, kissing them so gently as if they could break or disappear at any moment, he wraps his hands around their waist, feeling overjoyed that they don't move away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>More than that, they move closer, burying their hands in his hair. It feels amazing to hold them, at last, after everything, knowing that they want it as much as he does, knowing that they… </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It feels like the best thing on earth. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Frye's Shitty Ex Comes To Ruin The Day</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this happens like...a week into Frye's and Jan's relationship</p><p>tw for...implications of an abusive relationship in the past? and for Rocco in general. the dickbag.</p><p>also heres art of the bastard ex....to further elaborate on the Rose Baggage<br/>https://valgeristik.tumblr.com/post/627174155924733952/introducing-fryes-shitty-ex-boyfriend-rocco</p><p>also this is what i imagine Frye's emotional state as during all this:<br/>https://64.media.tumblr.com/79ad163376b2701cfd147147e655c3fb/f8495adda545be10-71/s1280x1920/3529642c08ac7a93999c62d47f2b4d8d3f4cd7bc.png</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It has been a while since he cooked. If he’s honest with himself, Frye doesn’t even remember the last time it happened. </p><p>And yet, here he is, in Jan’s previously immaculate kitchen, trying to make them a meal to come home to. </p><p>His preparations were precise, if not perfect. He bought the right ingredients, and measured them exactly like the recipe said, but when it came to actually cooking...the lack of experience betrayed him right away. </p><p> </p><p>“I really should have prepared more,” he sighs, stirring the contents of the pan. The meat, undeniably, got burned before even cooking properly.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I don’t know,” Lili says, floating closer to examine the food, “doesn’t seem <em> too </em>bad. Maybe the sauce will save it.”</p><p> </p><p>Frye, frustrated, puts the pan off of the heat, eyeing the jar of the aforementioned sauce (store-bought, since he’s confident he couldn’t make one himself).</p><p> </p><p>“I mean, maybe...or maybe I should just start ov-”</p><p> </p><p>He is interrupted by a doorbell. Immediately, he is gripped with fear, as if being caught doing something he’s not supposed to. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh no,” he says, frantically looking for a towel to clean the counter with, “oh <em> no </em>, why are they home early,”</p><p> </p><p>Lili floats, confused, above him as he runs around the kitchen. The doorbell rings a second time.</p><p> </p><p>“Frye,” she calls, “Jan has the keys. They wouldn’t ring the bell.”</p><p> </p><p>The warlock stops dead in his tracks, before all but collapsing against the fridge in relief. </p><p> </p><p>“Traveler, I am an idiot,” he laughs. Lili rolls her eye.</p><p> </p><p>The doorbell rings a third time. </p><p> </p><p>“Ugh, this better be important,” he mutters as he heads for the door. </p><p> </p><p>He expects a mailman, or somebody having the wrong apartment, or one of their friends dropping by for a visit. </p><p>What greets him instead, as he opens the door, is a bouquet of dark red roses shoved into his face. His hands, on instinct, reach to take the flowers, to put them down and clear his vision. His blood runs cold as he does. </p><p>Not saying a word, clutching the roses so hard the thorns dig into his skin, he takes a step back. </p><p> </p><p>“Hi, babe,” Rocco says, putting himself in the doorframe, crowding him, “it was a real pain in the ass to find you.”</p><p> </p><p>He gets even closer once Frye keeps quiet, forcing his way deeper into the apartment, following the retreating warlock until pushing him out of the door is no longer an option. </p><p>Smirking, he puts his hands around Frye’s waist, as sure of himself as he was before.</p><p> </p><p>“But aren’t you glad that I did?”</p><p> </p><p>“Get out,” Frye manages, though his voice is shaking. He can feel the void simmering at the tips of his fingers. </p><p>The only thing keeping him from nova bombing the intruder is the potential damage to Jan’s apartment. </p><p> </p><p>“Aw, babe, don’t be this way,” Rocco lets go, as if sensing that he’s pushing it too much, but doesn’t move away, “don't you know how much I missed you?”</p><p> </p><p>He lifts his hand to caress Frye’s face.</p><p>The warlock steps away before he's able to touch him. </p><p> </p><p>“Get <em> out </em>,” he repeats, squeezing the flowers tighter to keep himself from panicking, grounding himself with the pain. </p><p>Rocco looks <em> upset </em>, like Frye is the one in the wrong, and finally looks away. He surveys the apartment instead, making no move to leave. </p><p> </p><p>"You decided to finally settle? Where'd you get the money for a place this nice?" </p><p> </p><p>"I swear, if you don't leave right now-" </p><p> </p><p>"Knowing you," Rocco interrupts, calm, as if he is in no danger, "you fucked someone for it. Is that what you were doing all this time?" </p><p> </p><p>He turns back towards Frye, and the warlock's anger quickly turns to fear at the look on his face. Rocco steps closer, backing him up against a wall. </p><p> </p><p>"Here I was, looking for you day and night, and you-" </p><p> </p><p>"Leave him alone already!" Lili, with all the power her little body will allow, hits Rocco in the back of the head. </p><p>The titan recoils, hand flying to the point of impact in pain. It is enough for Frye to snap out of his stupor and push the man away, dropping the flowers and leaving blood smeared on Rocco's seemingly expensive dress shirt. </p><p> </p><p>(He takes a moment of satisfaction at the idea)</p><p> </p><p>Lili lowers herself in between them, shell whirring, not unlike an angry insect.</p><p> </p><p>“You <em> bitch </em>,” Rocco all but spits, rubbing the back of his head, “stay out of this!”</p><p> </p><p>“You should take your own advice!” she barks in return, furious. </p><p> <br/>The titan looks angry, looking at Lili with a face usually reserved for his crucible opponents. Frye grabs her, grateful and protective at the same time. She doesn’t resist as he cradles her to his chest. </p><p>There is a moment in which no one speaks; it feels like forever.</p><p>The warlock keeps his body tense - ready to fight or flee at any moment. Their confrontation left the door wide open, so it wouldn’t be hard to blink behind him and then…<br/><br/>Then what?</p><p> </p><p>"Fuck, Frye, come on," Rocco sighs, straightens out, puts his hand on his chest in a gesture of mock sincerity, "I'm sorry...you know I get jealous. You know I love you.”</p><p> </p><p>Frye’s blood runs so cold it feels like it’s boiling. The Light simmers around him, as furious as he feels. <br/><br/>“You have no right to be,” he hisses, stepping closer for once, “you have no right to say that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Come on, babe,” the titan takes it as an invitation, opening his arms for a hug, “I know how you hate being alone. You don’t have to be.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m <em> not </em> alone,” Frye pushes him towards the door with the hand that isn’t holding Lili, taking this opportunity to ruin the shirt some more, “and I told you to get <em> out </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Babe, your <em> ghost </em> isn’t the same as having a man by your side,” Rocco takes his hand by the wrist, looking with disdain at the blood, before tugging Frye forward to fall into him, “I think you just forgot what it’s like. Let me remind you...” <br/><br/></p><p>The titan’s other hand snakes it's way around Frye’s waist and then up, slipping under the t-shirt he's wearing. Rocco lowers his face to place a messy kiss on his temple, murmuring something about how much he missed "this". </p><p> </p><p>Frye feels like a rabid animal. </p><p> </p><p>He yanks his arm backwards, trying to get free, but the titan only holds on tighter, pulls him closer. It would hurt if Frye could feel it past his anger. Lili starts getting restless in his hand, no doubt itching to hit Rocco again. He does it for her; with all the power he can muster, he kicks his ex in the shin. </p><p> </p><p>Rocco barely flinches. </p><p> </p><p>"Come <em> on </em> , babe," he says, sounding exhausted, weakening his hold just enough for Frye to fight his way out of it, "we've done this before. I know you miss me too, stop being so <em> difficult </em>." </p><p> </p><p>"I <em> don't! </em> " Frye screams, borderline hysterical, "I <em> have </em> someone already, and it's not Lili, you self-absorbed fucking-" </p><p> </p><p>"What?" Rocco interrupts, almost too calm. </p><p> </p><p>Frye realizes what he said. He wasn’t planning to, wasn’t going to give the titan the opportunity, but experience shows that he was never a smart man. </p><p>His ex steps closer as Frye takes a step back, trampling the roses in the process. The titan looks him over, paying proper attention to him for the first time since he came here. Frye stays still, breathing heavily, knowing exactly what is coming. He watches, like a deer in the headlights, as a cruel grin appears on his ex’s face. <br/><br/></p><p>“Really? You <em> have </em> someone?” he laughs, as if in disbelief, "Is <em> that </em> why you're wearing this ridiculous apron? Do you think he will love you if you <em> cook </em> for him?" </p><p> </p><p>Frye stays quiet, feeling more and more self-conscious underneath the anger. </p><p>Rocco's words, much like all those times before, hit right on target. </p><p> </p><p>"Frye, babe, don't fucking fool yourself. It smells like you burned half the kitchen down," he comes closer as the warlock looks away, putting his hand under Frye’s chin, "We both know that the only one willing to bear with your bullshit is me." </p><p> </p><p>"Fuck off, " Frye snaps, but there is no bite to it. </p><p>His anger is steadily being replaced by a sinking feeling of dread; by a feeling that Rocco is <em> right </em>. </p><p> </p><p>"Oh, I will. But babe?" the titan turns Frye's face towards himself, making sure to make eye contact, "When he realizes your little fling is a mistake, feel free to come crawling back to me."</p><p> </p><p>He leans down, plants a one-sided kiss on Frye's lips, and whispers this last part into his ear, to really drive the nail into the coffin. </p><p> </p><p>"I don't give it more than a week. We both know you're insufferable." </p><p> </p><p>Frye has no answer. Rocco, satisfied with his work, leaves without saying anything else. </p><p>He doesn't close the door after himself. </p><p>Frye does it for him, slowly, as if moving through a fog. He leans his back against it, hearing the <em> click </em> of the automatic lock, and then just as slowly slides to the floor. </p><p> </p><p>Lili wiggles her way out of his hand, immediately fretting over him, running a scan, healing the scratches the roses left. Frye wishes she could erase the past few minutes as easily.</p><p> </p><p>“Fry, dear...” she starts, gentle, “you know that everything he said is bullshit, right?”</p><p> </p><p>Frye looks at her, feeling numb. He considers saying the truth.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, Lili, ” he lies, “I know. I’ll be fine.”</p><p> </p><p>“Want to go back to cooking?”</p><p> </p><p>Frye flexes his hands a couple of times, looking at the blood that’s still left on them; looking at the stomped roses.</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s just clean it all up and order takeout, ” he mumbles, going to stand up, “not in the mood to cook anymore.”</p><p> </p><p>Lili doesn’t say anything, looking concerned before floating to the kitchen, determined to start the clean up. </p><p> </p><p>Frye smiles, tired and sad. They’ll have to burn those flowers.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>continued :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>By the time Jan comes home, the kitchen is clean. </p><p>There is no sign of the burned food, no sign of the flowers, no sign of the blood. </p><p>Frye aired out the apartment and took the longest shower of his life, trying to scrub away both the feeling of being touched and his own doubts, now multiplied by what Rocco said. </p><p> </p><p>He greets Jan at the door. When they see him, they smile, happy and gentle.</p><p>Today, instead of butterflies in his stomach, he feels only guilt and shame at the sight. He feels like he's fooling them. </p><p>He doesn't intend to mention any of what happened.</p><p> </p><p>"Hi, honey," Jan says as they cross the doorway, clearly hiding something behind their back, "how did your day go?" </p><p> </p><p>"Oh, it was fine," he lies, smiling easily, playing along like he doesn't see anything, "watched a movie. Ordered takeout. Took a shower. Nothing exciting. " </p><p> </p><p>"Did you have time to miss me?" they ask, smiling like they're telling a joke. </p><p> </p><p>Frye's smile falters for just a second before he wrangles it back, trying not to show that anything is wrong. </p><p> </p><p>Trying not to give Jan any reason to leave him. </p><p> </p><p>"Of course."</p><p> </p><p>He's looking at the floor as he says it, trying to distance himself so he doesn’t cry from how undeservingly <em> nice </em> Jan is being to him, and so he doesn't notice when they pull out a bouquet from behind their back. </p><p> </p><p>"I missed you too, sunshine," they say, softly touching Frye’s elbow to get his attention, "and so I stopped by the flower shop again." </p><p> </p><p>This bouquet isn't being shoved in his face. Jan waits patiently until he takes it himself, their hands touching gently in the process; for a moment, as he admires the flowers, Frye’s smile is genuine. </p><p> </p><p>It's peonies; bright and beautiful, not yet in full bloom. He can tell that they're not going to wilt any time soon; he can tell they were picked out with care. </p><p>Jan's bouquets always are - different flowers, different combinations, never just an afterthought, never just <em> roses </em>. </p><p> </p><p>He never liked roses. </p><p> </p><p>"I was thinking about it again recently," Jan says once Frye keeps quiet, "and peonies do remind me of you the most." </p><p> </p><p>"Yeah?" he laughs, trying to be nonchalant but coming out bitter, "you'd think I'd be some kind of weed. Like a dandelion or something."</p><p> </p><p>"Well," Jan says in their reprimanding tone, carefully brushing Frye’s hair out of his face and behind his ear, "I can see why you would say that." </p><p> </p><p>Frye isn't surprised, though he would be lying if he said it didn't hurt to hear. He's nothing like a peony, after all. An annoying sidewalk weed feels as good as it gets, and Jan's agreement, no matter how nice they were trying to be before, just drives home the fact that-</p><p> </p><p>"Dandelions are, after all, a wonderful flower," Jan continues, interrupting Frye’s self-flagellation, "Strong and resilient, all while reminding me of sunshine. I can see how it fits." </p><p> </p><p>Frye doesn't answer. He's not smiling anymore, trying to swallow the lump in his throat, trying not to cry. Jan looks concerned but <em> understanding </em>, as if they expected this, as they cup his face with their hands. </p><p> </p><p>"But I think peonies are more like you," they continue, so quiet they're almost whispering, "you're far more gentle than you let on." </p><p> </p><p>"<em> Damn </em> it, Jan," Frye sobs, all plans of acting normal flying out the window, "why do you have to be so <em> nice </em> to me?" </p><p> </p><p>"Because I love you," they admonish him, wiping his tears with their thumbs, "and because otherwise you'd never tell me what's bothering you." </p><p> </p><p>"I just don't want to be a… a burden-" </p><p> </p><p>"Frye, sweetheart…" </p><p> </p><p>Jan gets on tiptoes to place a kiss on his forehead, which the warlock, despite the situation, finds adorable. </p><p> </p><p>"You could never be a burden to me," they say, placing another kiss on his cheek, "I want to know what bothers you. I want you to be happy." </p><p> </p><p>"I," he begins, shaky because of the tears, "I may have…burned some food while-.. I was trying to cook for you, and-" </p><p> </p><p>"It's alright," they reassure him right away, "I'm no cook either. We can try that together next time." </p><p> </p><p>"And I.. I stained your apron-" </p><p> </p><p>"It's just an apron, honey, I don't mind." </p><p> </p><p>"I..I’m not-...” <br/><br/>Frye inhales sharply, trying to get a grip, to calm down, to not say anything that would hint that his distress runs deeper than what Jan already knows. It’s hard not to, when they look at him with so much kindness, but…</p><p>They don’t need to know. Despite what they say, Frye knows that it's impossible to not be a burden with the amount of baggage that he has. Rocco was right about this one thing; in his entirety, Frye is insufferable. </p><p>But he can deal with it himself, he can hide the ugly parts, he can be a good partner to Jan, he can give them a reason to <em> stay </em>.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry,” he manages in between sobs, “I..I don’t know what-...what happened, I...”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay, Fry,” they plant a kiss on his nose, “you don’t have to explain yourself.”</p><p> </p><p>"I'm sorry," he repeats, "I guess it… it hit me harder than I thought." </p><p> </p><p>"Don't apologize, honey," they plant a final, gentle kiss on his lips before letting go of his face, putting their hands over his instead, "Let's go put these in a vase, yeah?" </p><p> </p><p>"Yeah." </p><p> </p><p>"I love you. You know that, right?" </p><p> </p><p>Frye nods, another wave of sobbing coming on before he powers through it. He leans down to kiss Jan's cheek, to hide his face in the crook of their neck, exhaustion catching up to him. </p><p> </p><p>"I love you too," he mumbles into their skin, making them giggle. It feels incredibly easy to say it. </p><p> </p><p>So easy it almost puts Rocco's visit out of his mind entirely. </p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>They eat dinner together, and watch TV on the couch, and Frye falls asleep with his head on Jan's lap, without meaning to. </p><p> </p><p>The hunter sits quietly, not paying attention to the flickering screen, running their hand through Frye’s hair gently. </p><p>They can tell that something happened today; something more than just burned food. </p><p>They don't want to push it, they want to give Frye time to open up on his own terms, but at the same time they don't know if he will. </p><p> </p><p>They don't know what to do. </p><p> </p><p>"I wish you would talk to me," they whisper, brushing the stray hair out of his face. </p><p>Frye doesn't stir. </p><p> </p><p>Sighing, they look towards the kitchen, where Aquila and Lili have been spending their evening. Jan can faintly hear them giggle over the sound of the TV. </p><p> </p><p>"Lili?," they call out, quietly, trying not to wake the warlock, "Can you come here?" </p><p> </p><p>The giggling stops, and a moment later two little lights appear in the doorway. Jan smiles as they wave them over. They find it cute how the two ghosts are always together when they can be. </p><p> </p><p>"What is it?" Lili asks, spinning her shell curiously, "Did something happen to Frye?" </p><p> </p><p>"That's what I wanted to ask, actually," Jan smiles, sheepish, "it wasn't just about the food today, was it?" </p><p> </p><p>Lili looks uncertain, looking at Frye, at Aquila, back at Frye. She does an uneasy circle around the couch, shell moving erratically, contemplating. </p><p> </p><p>"I don't know if Frye wants me to tell you," she says finally. </p><p> </p><p>"I don't need to know what happened," Jan concedes, even though they want very desperately to know, "I just want to know if… I just want to know if he's really okay." </p><p> </p><p>"Probably not," Aquila says, deadpan. </p><p> </p><p>Lili sighs. </p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, probably not," she agrees, "it...wasn’t just the food. He-...something came up from the past.”</p><p> </p><p>"How bad was it?" </p><p> </p><p>"Pretty fucking bad." </p><p> </p><p>Jan nods, frowning, resting their hand on Frye’s shoulder. They thought that confirming their suspicion would be enough, but it's not. They want to know more, want to help, want to reassure him that everything is going to be okay. </p><p>They want to see him happy with no restrictions, no doubts. They want him to know that he deserves that, and more. </p><p> </p><p>They know it won't happen so easily. </p><p> </p><p>The ghosts exchange a look, silently floating back to the kitchen. </p><p>Jan doesn't stop them; they know they won't get any more answers. </p><p> </p><p>They lean down, kissing Frye’s temple, putting their hand around him in a protective gesture. The warlock stirs, waking up from the sensation. </p><p>He looks at them, his face soft, a sleepy smile adorning his features, and Jan feels like crying from everything that it makes them feel. </p><p> </p><p>“Hello, gorgeous,” Frye mumbles, turning to face them properly, "what time is it?" </p><p> </p><p>"Hi, honey," they whisper, leaning back, letting him go, "it's late. Let's go to bed." </p><p> </p><p>"Mmhm, just a few more minutes…" he says, stretching like a cat on their lap. </p><p> </p><p>Jan laughs, and then they tear up, and Frye’s face immediately fills with panic. </p><p> </p><p>"Jan, what's wrong?" he says, sitting up, instantly on edge, "Did something happen? Did he-" </p><p> </p><p>He stops, wide-eyed, as if realizing what he's saying. Jan wipes their eyes with their hand, definitely noticing the blunder, deciding to let it go. </p><p> </p><p>"It's okay, honey," they say, hugging him again, resting their head against his chest, "it's happy tears." </p><p> </p><p>"Oh," Frye puts his arms around them, hesitant, as if testing if he's allowed to, "how come?" </p><p> </p><p>"I love you. You looked so happy just now," they nuzzle their face into his shirt (which was theirs at some point), "it's a good look on you." </p><p> </p><p>"Oh," Frye says again, sounding stunned.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah." </p><p> </p><p>Jan lets go, slowly, hands lingering on the warlock. Frye does the same, looking like he's processing something difficult, or trying to solve a puzzle. The hunter takes his hand in theirs. </p><p> </p><p>"I know something else happened today," they whisper, as Frye’s grip tightens in surprise, "but you don't have to tell me what it was, now or ever."</p><p> </p><p>Frye's hand relaxes as he looks away, looking guilty and relieved at once. Jan bites their lip, trying to find the right words to ease his worry. </p><p> </p><p>"I just want you to know that I love you," they say, looking at their intertwined hands, "all of you. And you don't have to hide anything."</p><p> </p><p>"Damn it, Jan," Frye says, quietly, "I don't want to cry right before bed." </p><p> </p><p>"Hah, I'm sorry," they lift his hand up to kiss the back of it, apologetic, "let's go to sleep, then." </p><p> </p><p>"Yeah."</p><p> </p><p>They get up. Before Frye follows suit, he tugs on their hand, looking uncertain, nervous. </p><p> </p><p>"I…" he begins, swallows, tries again, "I will think about it. About what you said." </p><p> </p><p>"Thank you," they smile, gently, "but no pressure, remember?" </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. Yeah, I… "</p><p> </p><p>He gets up, slowly, still holding their hand. Jan doesn't step away, welcoming the closeness. Welcoming that it's Frye who moves towards them. </p><p> </p><p>"Maybe in the morning," he whispers, resting his forehead against Jan's. </p><p> </p><p>They pull him even closer, burying their hand in his hair, asking a silent permission to kiss him. </p><p>Frye answers by closing the gap between them. </p><p> </p><p>"Yeah," Jan agrees afterwards, whispering into his lips, "that works for me." </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Jan doesn't find out for about a week. </p><p> </p><p>It's not easy, waiting for it. Not knowing if they'll ever find out. </p><p>But they know it's harder for Frye, and so they stay patient and loving until he is ready to talk. </p><p> </p><p>He is hesitant at first. Easy on the details, he starts with what happened a week ago, in the apartment. It is unpleasant to hear. </p><p> </p><p>And then…then he tells them about what happened before that, and before that, and… </p><p> </p><p>Jan was never really into crucible. </p><p>It's not that they're bad at it, the competition was just never their <em> thing </em>. </p><p> </p><p>Today, however, things are different. </p><p> </p><p>Today, it is <em> personal.  </em></p><p> </p><p>In the lineup, they see him right away; he stands out even among the titans, towering over most other people, <em> enjoying </em> it. He bosses his teammates around, critiquing their choice of weapon, of armor, of tactics. No one seems to like him quite as much as he likes himself. </p><p> </p><p>He is just as arrogant as Frye described. </p><p> </p><p>Jan doesn't approach. They don't need to; there is only one thing they want to say to him, and they're saving it for the match. </p><p> </p><p>Frye doesn't know they're here, doing this. </p><p>They plan to be home by dinner. </p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>As annoying as it is to admit, Rocco's arrogance isn't for nothing. </p><p> </p><p>The opposite team, <em> his </em> team, is winning. </p><p>He is largely to blame - holding most kills and zero deaths, skillfully navigating the battlefield, <em> reveling </em> in it. </p><p> </p><p>But Jan doesn't care for the score. </p><p> </p><p>Keeping to the background, they wait for the right moment. They know it will come; Rocco doesn't seem like much of a team player. </p><p> </p><p>And it doesn't take long. They follow him as he splits from his team, yelling expletives at them when Jan's team captures two zones at once. His teammates don't follow. </p><p> </p><p>When they are far enough away, truly alone, that's when Jan finally acts. </p><p> </p><p>Their shadowshot hits the target dead-on. Rocco stumbles, cursing, whipping around to fire in return.</p><p> </p><p>But it is too slow. By the time he turns, the hunter is nowhere to be seen. He looks in all directions, frantic and angry, gun at the ready. </p><p> </p><p>Jan isn't planning on using <em> their </em> gun. They tackle him from the shadow, using his surprise to knock him off his feet, stabbing the first knife into his abdomen. </p><p> </p><p>"Ah, you son of a <em> bitch </em>," Rocco growls, trying to push them off, trying to reach for the gun he dropped in the fall. </p><p> </p><p>Jan twists the knife in his gut, making him cry out in pain. They don't want to hear what he has to say. </p><p> </p><p>They want to make him <em> listen </em>. </p><p> </p><p>"I want you to know that this is personal," they say, deathly calm, pulling out another knife, pushing it in between his collarbones, just strong enough to hurt, "I want you to know that this is a <em> warning. </em>"</p><p> </p><p>Rocco tries to claw at them, push them off, say something biting. They don't let him. </p><p>They lean in close, helmet-to-helmet, pushing both knives just a bit deeper. </p><p> </p><p>"Stay away from Frye." </p><p> </p><p>The last thing Rocco hears, after they thrust the knife into his throat, is Shaxx's excited screaming about the score. </p><p> </p><p>It is his only death that match. </p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>When Jan comes home, it smells of something cooking. They exchange a look with Aquila as they gently close the door, and then they take off their shoes, and quietly walk to the kitchen. </p><p> </p><p>Frye's back is to them, too busy looking at something on the stove, along with Lili.</p><p>He's wearing Jan's shirt, and the new apron they chose together at the store, and the hunter's heart swells with adoration. </p><p> </p><p>"What's that you're making?" they call out, laughing when Frye jumps in surprise. </p><p> </p><p>"Jan!" the warlock says, sternly, hand on his chest from the scare, "you don't <em> do </em>that!" </p><p> </p><p>"I'm sorry, honey," they concede, coming closer to hug him from behind, "I was just too mesmerized to let you know I'm home." </p><p> </p><p>Frye continues stirring, feigning irritation. </p><p>(Jan can tell by the smile he's trying his best to hide)</p><p> </p><p>"Well," he says, lifting his nose in the air, theatrical as always, "I would have told you what I'm making, but since you were so rude…" </p><p> </p><p>He trails off, meaningfully. Jan laughs, and presses a kiss into the nape of his neck. </p><p> </p><p>"That's alright with me," they say, still smiling, "whatever it is, I'm sure it's lovely." </p><p> </p><p>Frye doesn't answer, still playing pretend of being mad, but Jan sees the blush spreading on his cheeks as clear as day. </p><p> </p><p>"Do you need any help here?" </p><p> </p><p>"Well," Frye considers, before gesturing with his elbow to some vegetables on the counter, "you can cut the salad, to make up for your transgression." </p><p> </p><p>"Yes, sir," Jan says, doing a mock salute with the wrong hand. </p><p> </p><p>Frye, finally, laughs. It is a lovely sound. </p><p> </p><p>They finish the day with the meal they prepare together, and then with the movie on the couch, and then in bed, where they fall asleep in each other's arms. </p><p> </p><p>Jan thinks, drifting off, that they wouldn't mind spending every day just like this. </p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>"Ho-ly <em> shit, </em>Jan," Frye says in the morning during breakfast, staring at his phone, "holy shit, did you…"</p><p> </p><p>Jan sips their coffee, nonchalant. </p><p> </p><p>"Maybe." </p><p> </p><p>"There's a video going around." </p><p> </p><p>"Mmhm." </p><p> </p><p>"You really… you really dragged that out, huh." </p><p> </p><p>Jan shrugs. Frye puts the phone down, takes their cup in his hand to put it aside, too, before reaching across the table to kiss them. </p><p>They don't resist. </p><p> </p><p>"I have to say," Frye whispers, breaking the kiss for a bit, "that's kind of hot." </p><p> </p><p>Jan laughs into their second kiss. </p><p> </p><p>And the third. </p><p> </p><p>They get it right on the fourth one, though. </p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>